


Happy New Year

by tifaching



Series: Acoustics 'Verse [29]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood, Blood Drinking, Branding, Butt Plugs, Dark, Evil Sam Winchester, Hellhounds, Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, Rape, Torture, Whipping, Wincest - Freeform, allusions to bestiality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-31
Updated: 2011-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-28 14:50:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/309022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tifaching/pseuds/tifaching
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's worn Dean out with all his new Christmas toys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy New Year

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This is a very dark series. Sam has no redeeming characteristics. Dean's life is one of rape and torture at his brother's hand.

It’s thirty minutes to midnight and Sam runs his fingers along the knotted leather thongs of the last whip still decorating the Christmas tree. Dean’s lying face down in the center of the room, every inch of his body covered with welts. Blood drips from slices made by switches, canes and knives; the cat o’nine tails, bullwhip and cleaver left huge swatches of muscle and bone exposed. There are still a few small boxes under the tree- Sam ended up taking the whole week off instead of just Christmas day and he’s been savoring each and every present. Taking his time to make sure Dean appreciates the effort he put into his gift selection. Sam decides the rest of the presents can wait ‘til tomorrow- tonight he’s going to fuck his brother into the new year.

Sam crosses to where Dean is sprawled, blood spattering with each step. When he’s gone every day he usually cleans up, but this week he hasn’t bothered. His toys are scattered around the room, left where he dropped them before moving on to something new. The whips are blood-caked and clotted with gore, the shining knives now rust-colored and dull. The burnt out remnants of dozens of candles litter the ground and the star that had been blazing at the top of the tree has had its outline burned into Dean’s flesh so many times it’s visible through the welts. A hellhound, new collar of diamonds sparkling around its neck, laps blood and pieces of Dean from the floor and stares at Sam, silently begging for another turn.

Normally it would have taken weeks for Sam to go through all the tortures he’d inflicted on his brother in the last seven days and it’s taken its toll on Dean. Dean’s limbs flop loosely as Sam rolls him onto his back, his eyes staring vacantly from his blood smeared face.

 _Hey_. Sam pulls his brother’s dead weight into his lap. _Hey, Dean. Time to wake up now. Can’t have my New Year’s Eve date sleeping through the festivities_.

Sam conjures them a bed, pristine white sheets immediately stained red. He delves into Dean’s mind, ready to rip his brother from his hiding place, but when he finds him there’s not much awareness left to play with. Sam sighs and drags what’s left of Dean’s consciousness back into the light. Tomorrow morning he’ll do a complete reboot of Dean’s psyche but for tonight this will have to be enough.

Sam’s fingers probe Dean’s ass, removing the bright blue plug that had been stretching it wide. The plug pops out easily enough, but the tentacles that had emerged after insertion fight to stay inside. Sam pulls and twists until he’s torn them free, then tosses the plug to the hellhound, who rips it to pieces in a blood-drenched frenzy. Dean lets out a ragged whimper and tries to twitch away from his brother’s hands.

 _Welcome back, Dean_. Sam grins and slides up his brother’s body to plant a hard kiss on his slack lips. _Not much fun fucking a zombie and I’m gonna fuck you all night long_.

Sam makes Dean virgin tight again then forces himself in, setting a punishing rhythm. Dean’s pained gasps let Sam know that, as far gone as his brother seems, he’s still in there somewhere. On the stroke of twelve Sam orgasms, cock spasming, filling Dean with his come.

He pulls out and flops down beside his brother, a bottle of champagne appearing in his hand. Sam pops the cork and champagne fountains out of the bottle, splashing onto Dean’s chest and belly. Sam licks the bloody cocktail off Dean’s nipples and laps his way down the motionless body, tongue dipping into Dean’s wounds and coming up dripping.

Sam takes a mouthful of champagne and lets it dribble into his brother’s mouth. Most of it runs out the sides, but Dean manages a weak swallow.

 _Good. That’s good, Dean. Gonna give you something better to drink in a minute. First blowjob of 2111 and you'd better swallow every last drop_.

Dean’s eyes are dull and empty, but a tear runs from one and Sam kisses it away.

 _Happy New Year, baby_.


End file.
